Such a sad state of affairs, my mind is.

I'm not a huge fan of the act of mating. For one, I don't think my seed needs to be procreated anytime soon. But, I do enjoy the art of fucking. And fucking is somewhat of a pastime for me.

In recent history, I've slowed it down a bit, whereas, in years past, I've been downright promiscuous. I press on.

Now, before I go any further, I feel the need to provide somewhat of a backstory for the upcoming disquisition.

A couple months back, my friend Becky and I shared many times together. We texted each other with great frequency, partied a lot, hung out sober, waxed philosophical about that and this, and this and that, but before I knew it, for some odd reason, this girl took a liking to me. Pretty girl, this one is. Virgin, too.

To make a very long story short, it all comes to a head when, one night, we hang out with a couple friends outside my house. I, being the lush I am, indulge in some beers and a few shots of cheap vodka, as the night begins to turn into morning. 6am, about, and my friends have all but left. Leaving me with Becky. I invite her inside to my house because, what was I gonna do? Make her drive home at 6am? She obviously needed rest.

We relax on my bed, for what couldn't have been more than 10 minutes, before my intoxicated ass begins pulling out the bag of tricks. I went from first to third in such an expedient manner, it would've make Jimmy Rollins jealous.* And then, there it was. I take my funstick out and, with a smug grin, proceed to...well, deflower her, for lack of a better term.

45 minutes go by. Grimaces of pain on her face, beads of sweat dripping down my marginally-toned physique, and a whiskey dick that would put my Pragmatic Pigeon accomplice to shame.
Hm. Poor girl. This is her first experience with sex.

Now, fast forward a couple months and, this past week Becky comes over in the mid-afternoon. A beautiful autumn day, this was.
We sit down and chat for a little bit, share a cup of green tea, and I enjoy a smoke or two outside.

We walk in and I look at her and say, "We're gonna go upstairs and have sex, ok?"
She nods her head, knowing, full and well, what she was here for.
This time it's a little less awkward. I'm not drunk, and she's not a virgin anymore.

Without any hesitation, we're both naked. Tight little body on this girl, I must say.

After showing off my oral skills, I figure her pussy is good and ready to play hostess to my dick.
5-6 minutes go by until I finally get some form of penetration. And...we're off.

(For the sake of not going into graphic detail, I'll skip to the climax.)

Now, I look at her and offer this question, "I'm gonna cum now, ok?"
God, I'm so chivalrous.

She nods her head and I put it into overdrive.
But wait. Somethings a miss.
It feels so good, yet...I can't cum?
"I'm broken," I say to myself.
And then, I realized what was the matter, and its the same thing that hindered my climax the first time we had relations.
So, as sad as this is, I put my head on her shoulder, close my eyes, and I pretend that she's my ex-girlfriend. And then, finally...release.

"GOD! You're pathetic," I think, almost outloud.

After this, we clean up, I have a smoke, I hug her goodbye, and she goes home.

I tell this tale because, this is where I find myself. Juxtaposed between going out and being who I once was, in terms of interaction with the female species, and holding on to a girl who is no longer mine.

And, it's safe to say that, in regards to the well-being of my mind, I choose the first.
And it will make for some good writing.

And, as of writing this, I get a call from a friend:

Lyle: "Fucker, we're drinking tonight."
Me: "Nah dude, I gotta go to Lisa's house. She offered me a 6 pack of Busch pounders, a blowjob, and a bottle of Captain Morgan."
Lyle: "Oh, yeah? Fuck that. Come with me, I need the pussy magnet."
Me: "Dude, you got the wrong guy."
Lyle: "Ha, don't kid yourself. How 'bout this, I can one-up Lisa."
Me: "And how, exactly, will you do this?"
Lyle: "I got 2 bottles of champagne, a bottle of liquor, a case of Beast, a spiral-cut honey ham and a gang of bitches that won't stop talking to me about you. I say, we start with straight shots...then pop bottles."
Me: "And then pop models? God. Sign me up."
Lyle: "I knew you wouldn't let me down. See you at 9, babe."
Me: "See ya then, sweetheart."

So, here's to promiscuous sex, being able to get whatever I want from a girl, and alcohol in excess.

It's a pleasure to be an American.

*Baseball joke.

What Happened?!

Hi empty white page. I don't know what to write about. I have a lot of thoughts, but it's kinda like a jigsaw puzzle... a 3-D jigsaw puzzle, so it's very difficult for me to put the pieces together right now. I guess I can start off with last night. It started off pretty lame, nothing too exciting. Went to the local pub, only to realize that it was entirely too crowded (which sucks because it used to be our spot on Thursdays, now everyone goes), so we got a few Bud Lights (why isn't Beast on tap?) and headed over to a party. I was kind of in a mellow mood so I didn't plan on getting too drunk. I head downstairs to the basement and Tim is happy to see me so he makes me take a shot with him. Okay, one down. Next thing I know, everyone I know is coming downstairs and making me take shots with them. Literally eight shots and twenty minutes later, I felt better.

Time was going on through the night and I was running into a bunch of friends, and all of a sudden, the House Juice starts to kick in, and I'm focusing on an ex-girlfriends good friend. We're talking and what not and I tell her lets go downstairs to take some shots, and NO ONE is in the basement. They all went upstairs. Kind of in an awkward position, we look at each other and laugh and then... for some odd reason I think we almost kissed? It was kind of... strange/weird/wtf? We both laughed and went upstairs. Very strange, and when I think about it now, it gets even stranger. Whatever, fuck it.

So I'm upstairs, just hanging out and the liquor kicks into overdrive, and now I'm a fool, a complete utter fool. I tell Shelly she should sleep over and she's all about it.
We end up back in my room and I guess are entertained by something on TV for a bit, but it's about three in the morning so we're both getting tired. She rolls over and then I grab her and we start to kiss...? Next thing I know, we're both naked and I'm inside of her. Or at least thats how I remember it. Funny thing is, I had whiskey dick, so I seriously think I lasted for over half hour, and no nutting in sight. Eventually, she either passed out or got bored cause it was taking forever so we stopped and I fell asleep.

I hate falling asleep naked after sex because my dick gets so fucking tiny after sleeping and sex. Put in the fact that my house isn't heated very well and we got a little nub-fairy between my legs. Anyways, I quickly grab some boxers and go to the bathroom and try to recap what the fuck just happened. After putting two and two together, and subtracting three and carrying the one and dividing it all by liquor, I realized I just tried making out with my ex-girlfriends best friend and then ended up having sex with some chick my friend has had a thing for for over a year or so, maybe two.

My head is still hurting from last night... but its about 9:57 PM, so it looks like round two is just about to begin. Cheers mate.

We are you

This project of ours has been in the works for... well ever since we met. It was apparent that the day we joined forces, our knowledge of girls, alcohol, drugs, video games, pick-ups, girls, alcohol, and females must be shared with the world. This is not a blog of bragging, nor is it of fictitious rambling that is made for comedy. It is in fact the true life events of two fellow young bloods who have experienced situations and girls aplenty.
Already, that first paragraph above implies that we are very into ourself, which in regards sometimes we may be, but it's more of the 'id'* factor coming through, than us trying to seem like macho male whores.

[id] n. In Freudian theory, the division of the psyche that is totally unconscious and serves as the source of instinctual impulses and demands for immediate satisfaction of primitive needs.

We say what you want to say, we say what you want to know, and we say what you want to hear. Everyone talks about everything that will be discussed in this blog, we're just taking the liberty to congregate the thoughts in one central location that can be shared with everyone.

Who we are.

To find out who the Pragmatic Pigeons are, we first must look at what it means to be pragmatic.

Merriam-Webster defines pragmatic as "relating to matters of fact or practical affairs often to the exclusion of intellectual or artistic matters."

Now, you may ask yourself, "What would two pigeons be doing being pragmatic in the first place?"

There in lies your answer; it does not pertain to relative interest who or what the pragmatic pigeons are. But instead, what they represent.

For subjective purposes, we are you. We are your next door neighbor. We are your distant relative.
You know the guys who can pick up any girl? We're them. On crack.

For all intents and purposes, this is an outlet for a few like-minded people to take advantage of this opportunity to put into writing our escapades, antics, tomfoolery, monkeyshines, mischief, capers, adventures and overall shenanigans, for the world to enjoy.

Hi, we're the Pragmatic Pigeons. Nice to meet your acquaintance.